


Trichochrismaniac.

by boldlyshipping



Category: Star Trek
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-05
Updated: 2013-07-05
Packaged: 2017-12-17 18:09:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/870445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boldlyshipping/pseuds/boldlyshipping





	Trichochrismaniac.

“Stop that, Zoe, you’re ruining it”; “Come ooooon Simon, not the hair!”; “Karl you better take your hand off my head before I slap it”. Those are the reasons why Zachary never touches Chris’ hair. Chris’ arms, hands, shoulders, back and even his thighs get touched by him, but not the hair. It’s not that he doesn’t crave to touch it, because he does. He’s dying to just be able to brush his fingers through those aureate strands, to find out if it feels as soft as it looks, if his hands will meld with Chris' locks as if they always belonged there. What he doesn’t want to feel is the weight of the rejection that comes with it, so he keeps his hands to himself instead of giving in to his urges. 

Sometimes it would seem Zach’s obsession is known by Chris and he just likes to tempt Zach with what he can’t get, always running his hands through it and standing inappropriately close to him, his head just a few inches from the older man’s fingers. Sort of like right now. They’re all at Zach’s apartment and he could have sat anywhere and bent his head towards anybody else, but he chose to sit beside Zach on the sofa, prop his elbow against its back and rest his head on his hand, the top of the former turned obscenely in Zach’s direction. And it is so annoying, really, to have him so close and yet as unattainable as the farthest star in all of Space. 

And then, without a warning, Chris shifts his body, stretching his legs over Zoe’s on the other side of the couch and laying his head on Zach’s lap and it’s too much. He feels as if all of his desires will be unleashed if he so much as looks down, and he will never be able to get his hands off of Chris’ head and he must be mad, he must be mad. He tentatively puts his hand on the other’s golden head and he’s instantaneously lost in it and he knows it’s silly, actually, but he had wanted to feel it for so long. He keeps running his hands through the perfectly blond hair, not a clue about his friends’ unsettled looks as he does it. 

“You’re not going to _say_ anything?” Karl, who is sitting right across from them on the carpet, directs his question at Chris, interrupting whatever was being said about Alice’s trip back to England. 

“Nope. His touch is different than yours, I like it. Feels natural, like it's a part of me.” And Zach can’t handle the feeling of victory with the tacit permission to keep caressing his friend’s head.


End file.
